The figure behind the altar did not speak.
It did not stir.
But its presence tugged at the world, as gravity warps the floor beneath their feet.
---
Gojin lowered his head. "You cannot confront it yet."
---
Seong-min moved forward, hand on the pommel of his sword. "Then explain to us what it is."
"An injury," Gojin told him. "Older than your blood. Born the day your love was betrayed—not in this life, but the first."
Ji-hwan's voice was little more than a whisper. "We were betrayed?"
Gojin regarded him with something akin to pity.
"You attempted to save him once. You failed. That moment created a scar across every life that followed."
Ji-hwan's knees turned to water. Seong-min grasped his arm without a word.
Gojin went on, "The thing behind the veil… it's not a demon. It's the result of love denied."
A gentle murmur issued out of the darkness. Not a growl. Not a sound.
Just… grief.
Seong-min held tighter. "What does it want?"
Gojin turned to leave. "To complete what never began. But it may not act—not until the eclipse."
Ji-hwan drew back. "The black moon."
"Yes," the prophet spoke. "The night the prophecy will determine itself. You have until then.
Ji-hwan's breath caught. "To do what?"
Gojin at last turned to them again. "To choose:
Love, or legacy.
The crown, or each other.
You cannot have both."
Outside, thunder growled across a sky still blue.
A storm was brewing.
Not of rain—
But of memory.
And neither of them would emerge unaltered.